


Woke them all ...

by tatooedlaura



Series: Life, Part 3 [29]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: will he make it back in time?





	Woke them all ...

His head hurt constantly from fighting, brain trying to take back his life, his limbs, his independence; puppet to master, dancing on the end of a string, life passing by, walking, watching, seeing his body doing things he didn’t ask it to do.

Scully told him she didn’t remember a thing on that bridge, didn’t recall driving, conversations, running, hiding, the black hole of empty memories and wondering about consequences. He, on the other hand, had to remember it all. The cars he was forced to steal. The fights he started. The women he picked up, bought dinner, took to a hotel, kissed, caressed, undressed, then, for some unknown reason, left behind before sex, all at the whim and whisper of Krycek in his ear, smallest of earpieces moving him though his nightmare world.

He watched Krycek laugh in the face of his decimation and only found relief in sleep, where no one, not even rat bastard and his unquenchable asshole-ness, could control him. He dreamt of her, glimpse of color, smiles, rounded belly, full lips. Thoughts of a son, a daughter, giving him hope to get through the next day, next week, next year, however long this could possibly last.

For fleeting moments, he would fight so hard, sweat slicking his forehead, that he would feel like himself for the blink of an eye and he would wonder how he could kill the man in his head, then, inevitably, Krycek would look at him, smugly smile and take Mulder right back, imprison him once again.

He knew it was a month, keeping track, recalled baby books and internet sites taking him through the growth of his unborn child, size, weight, curled body ready for the world any moment now.

In the car, seatbelt on, Krycek passenger, infernal machine ever-present in his hand, Mulder watched him check it, then check again, take a call and with an honest-to-God sigh, smile, “I’d like you to drive to Georgetown Hospital please. Three miles over the speed limit, no accidents, follow the laws.”

Of course, they arrived all the while doing three miles an hour over the speed limit, following traffic laws to the letter. Once parked, “I’ve had fun with you, Mulder but like everything else, the fun’s gotta end sometime.” Nodding towards the hospital while reaching for the radio, turning it up loud, he then leaned towards Mulder, took out the earpiece, whispered to him, “because I’m feeling generous, she needs to keep the chip in but we won’t be coming for her or the baby that’s about to be born. Had she been able to carry the twins, this would be an entirely different scenario but we don’t want what’s useless to us now so you don’t have to worry about her, do you understand?”

Finding himself able to nod, he did so, shocked at how odd it felt to move his own muscles, speak his own words, “what about me?”

“This little field trip was to show what we can do and will do if you come too close but it’s my understanding that your father is feeling generous. We will not be coming back for you unless necessary.”

All he wanted to do was get out of the car, go find Scully somewhere in the labyrinthine hospital, pray his child was okay, but he remained seated, knuckles white on the steering wheel, “how will I know what’s too close?”

“You’ll remember.” Unlocking the doors, “get out.”

Mulder was gone before Krycek drew another breath, running on wobbling legs to the entrance, trying to recall coordination and balance with every step.

&&&&&&&&&

It took ten minutes and three nurses to believe who he was, where he needed to be and skirting rules of sterility and soap, he opened the door to her birthing room, her name filling the space just as he heard a doctor say ‘push’ …

Her face red, hair damp, Maggie holding her hand, she caught sight of him just as the contraction slowed, falling back against the pillows in the minute-long reprieve from pain, “Mulder?”

Making it to her, he kissed her forehead, “I’m here.”

Panting, swallowing hard, “how do I know you’re you?”

Mulder leaned in, mouth to ear, “Istanbul was Constantinople.”

Tears poured instantly down her cheeks as another contraction began ramping up, her voice cracking as she leaned forward, bearing down in face-scrunching concentration, grunting her way through, “Turkish delight on a moonlit night,” drawling words as she pushed out the head of their child, shoulders coming next, body following.

And it was done.

Next came the utter silence in his head as he watched his son, slimy, bloody, soaked little mess that he was, placed on Scully’s chest, skin on skin, Mulder’s hand on the finger-span width of his baby boy.

The crying that filled the room made his heart soar, crash, skip and speed.

He had a son.

He had a son and his Scully and nothing else mattered at all.


End file.
